Six Lessons
by mtfrosty
Summary: Six lessons that Obi-wan tried to teach Anakin.
1. Prologue

_**Summary: **_This is six lessons that Obi-wan taught Anakin, or attempted to teach him, over the years. I tried to mix a little humor in with another angsty story, but we'll see what happens. Anyways, these are also six things that I consider fairly important as well.

And just as a side note, if you've read any of my other stories, you can probably already tell that I'm a huge fan of Obi-wan. To me, his character was really what held the Star Wars saga together, and I honestly find it rather difficult to write anything bad about him. I might try to one of these days, just to challenge myself...

**_Disclaimer: _**Again, I don't own any of the characters, or the settings, or the plotline, or... yeah.

Enjoy!

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_Prologue_

I asked that little green troll once who he thought was the best Jedi in the Order. I expected him to say Mace or himself, or heck, maybe me! After all, I was the Chosen One. Only the most powerful force user alive. I was practically a shoo-in for the title of "Best Jedi".

But no.

He only smiled that weird smile of his and turned his green head to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall. I followed his gaze, but failed to see what he found more important than the question I just asked him. "See the sunset, do you?" he asked me in his backwards dialect.

I did see the sunset, for the first time it seemed. I had never taken the time to notice, I guess. Reds and oranges swirled together with a little yellow mixed in to form one of the most beautiful backdrops I had ever seen. A deep purple color lined the very edges of it and faded to a sheet of dark blue to black where the stars were just beginning to shine. It was awe-inspiring and I suddenly found myself at a loss for words. Yes, I saw it, but I couldn't seem to form even a one-word response. What was he getting at anyway?

He turned to look at me again, the wrinkles in his face making him look far too wise for a Jedi of such short stature. "Seeing it for the first time, are you? Beautiful, it is, hmm?"

"Y-yes, master," I stuttered, still struck dumb by what I had missed out on all those years.

"Unnoticed, your master is, yet more radiant in the Force than any other, he always has been. Privileged, you are, to be able to learn from him."

Then he hobbled away, supporting himself with his little stick.

Had I heard him right? My master? Yoda thought he was the best? No, that made absolutely no sense. His power in the force paled in comparison to mine, not to mention he was a good six inches shorter than I was. Plus, he hated to fight and was the most emotionless human being I had ever met in my life.

At least that's what I thought at the time. I was only fifteen when I had that conversation with Master Yoda. Ten years later, after I had pledged myself to serving Sidius, after I had eliminated the entire Jedi Order, after my master had severed all three of my remaining limbs, after I had killed my own wife, I would finally realized that I had taken Master Yoda's words for granted. I had been privileged. Yes, I learned from him, but only what I thought I needed to learn.

I was too arrogant to realize that a truly great Jedi can never learn too much.

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_Wasn't sure about the prologue, but whatever..._

_Reviews! :)_


	2. If I can do it, you can do it

If I Can Do It, You Can Do It

It was eight in the morning when I woke up, or at least that was when my alarm started to buzz at me or beep at me or squawk at me or however a person's supposed to describe that noise. Whatever it is it's the most annoying sound in the entire universe. I'm fairly certain most would agree with me. I rubbed my eyes and slapped my palm down on the snooze button with a jerky motion of my arm.

Then I noticed the sweet smell that was lingering in the air above me and suddenly I was wide awake and jumping out of bed. I grabbed a sleeveless shirt off the floor and pretty much threw it over my head. My master has this odd fetish with always having a shirt on at the table, but hey, if it meant awesome breakfasts, I could deal with a shirt. I'm pretty sure I was one of only a handful of padawans who had masters who didn't force them to eat cafeteria food.

I burst out of my room at a pace that could be described as not quite a run and not quite a walk. More of a run-walk actually. I saw him in the kitchen and the smell only intensified, almost causing me to faint from too much goodness. Okay, so it was just French toast, but no one makes French toast like Obi-wan.

No one.

I don't know what he puts in it, but boy does it taste ridiculously good. It's a rather funny sight, too, because at eight in the morning on a day off, Obi-wan looks completely different. And I think I'm the only one who knows this. Maybe that's why we grew to be so close, because I saw the more human side that no one else seemed to notice.

He's standing in the kitchen with his sleep clothes on, which basically consist of baggy trousers and a lightweight shirt similar to the one I'm wearing now. That's not the funny part; although, if you knew Obi-wan well at all, it was a little funny to see him dressed like that. No, his hair is what's hilarious. This is probably the most anally neat master in the Temple, and at eight in the morning his hair is a complete mess. It's just long enough to where it sticks out at odd angles, giving it almost a rebellious spiky look. Plus, he's always running a hand through it which only messes it up more. You'd laugh if you saw it.

"Good morning, Anakin," he says when I enter the kitchen. I see bacon on the stove as well, cooked to a light crisp. He's keeping it warm.

"Hi master," I say with a yawn. I manage to be both wide awake and half asleep at the same time. It takes talent to do that.

He takes one look at me and I know that it's enough. He always was able to see right through me. He goes back to flipping the French toast. "You know you might feel a little more awake if you didn't work on those droids of yours all night long."

I don't even try to deny it. "I'm afraid I might be addicted," I joke.

He lets out a short laugh. "Only the understatement of the decade," he returns without missing a beat. "Which one are you working on now? Or should I ask, which droid are you working on that I unknowingly purchased for you?" He gives me a look after the last question.

I only grin sheepishly. "It's not my fault you leave money lying around… anyways, it's a pretty cool one. I can show it to you when I'm done."

He just sighs and starts to place the French toast on a plate. "What does it do?"

"When I'm finished programming it, it's going to carry my books for me to all my classes," I answer proudly. I've always been good at programming droids. It's one of my all time favorite habits.

He raises a brow and glances at me. "Really? Does it roll or walk?"

Why should that make a difference? "It rolls, why?" I ask, my brow furrowing in curiosity.

He gives me a pointed look before carrying the food to our small dining table. I sit down and continue to stare at him. He takes a bite of bacon and then leans back in his chair. "What about the classes you have outside?"

Oh. "Well, I suppose I could put jets on it. You know, like Artoo has."

He raises a brow again. "You have money lying around for those, because I'm pretty sure I haven't left any lying out lately."

"Could I borrow a little…?"

He smiles. That trademark grin of his that's good in almost any situation. To an enemy it would get rather annoying, but for me, it's just another reminder of how much of a father he is to me. "Borrow? No. Work for it sure. Tell you what; if you pass your next three exams without missing a question, you can buy whatever you want for that droid."

"Not even one question?" Yeah right. I bet he never did that with three tests in a row.

"Better yet, I never missed a question period," he says between bites, as casually as ever. He stops and looks at me. Then he smiles. "And if I can do that on all my tests without some droid carrying my books around, I certainly expect you to do it on three tests."

I took it as a challenge. I've always been competitive, and that was no exception. I never missed a question after that.

And I never finished that droid.

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_Reviews are very much appreciated! :)_

_ "We would accomplish many more things if we did not think of them as impossible." ~ Vince Lombardi_


	3. Listen

Listen

"Why do you let her live, master?" I asked, frustration adding a clipped edge to my voice.

He glanced at me from his place on the ground. He was reclining against a boulder, wiping his lightsaber off with a small piece of cloth. We had just finished fighting one of our toughest battles to date and were catching our breath in a clearing not far from where it had been fought. Ventress had shown up. My master had let her escape… again. He smiled slightly and then turned his eyes back on his lightsaber. "She's young, you know."

"She's a Sith!" I exploded, throwing up my hands. He could be so darn infuriating at times, him and his twisted logic.

"She's confused," he went on, voice as calm as ever. "If you would stop to listen to her, maybe you would see that."

"Listen to her? Master, all she ever tells me is that the Jedi are misguided and that I'm going to die!" I can't see how he can possibly think she's only confused.

He finally stops to look at me. He sighs. "Of course she's going to say that, Anakin. What else could you possibly expect her to say? If she says otherwise, her master would kill her." He pauses to scratch at the back of his neck. "I'm not talking about her voice. Listen to her signature. In the Force she's quite light, but no one cares enough to look past the Sith apprentice that's attacking them."

"She is not light," I argue, refusing to back down. "I've felt her, master. She's cold, filled with hate. There's nothing there that resembles even the slightest bit of hope."

Obi-wan stands up and glances into the distance, a far-off look in his eyes. Then he smiles softly and turns back to me. "Perhaps she knows that you aren't listening. She knows that you don't hear her cries, so you only see what you want to see." I have no response to that and don't try and come up with one. How can I argue against that?

A few years later I would meet Ventress again, on my own. We would fight and she would die. I killed her. I shoved her off of a cliff. As I pushed her, I finally heard it. A quiet cry of panic. I almost reached out to her, but then I realized it wasn't me she was crying to. She had shouted a name and it echoed through the Force, causing chills to run down my spine. "Obi-wan!"

I knew my master had heard her. It was clear in the torn expression on his face when I returned to tell him the good news. He only tried to offer me a smile, though it turned out more of a grimace. He put a hand on my shoulder. "Good job, Anakin."

That's all he said.

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_"If you don't listen, you're never gonna learn." ~ Frank Iero_


	4. Flying is for Droids

One of Obi-wan's famous quotes...

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Flying is For Droids

"Pull up, Anakin! Look out for the buzz droids! Incoming fighters on our left! Look out for those trees! You're flying too low! JUST KRIFFIN' SHOOT THE THING!"

This is Obi-wan when he's flying. Well, actually when I'm flying and he happens to be riding next to me. Usually, all of his shouts of panic and attempts at giving advice fall on my selectively deaf ears. That last statement catches my attention, though. Obi-wan never swears. Never. I glance at him with a small smile on my face, satisfied that I finally got the normally unflappable "Negotiator" to come undone. "Language, master," I say, shaking my head in mock disapproval.

If looks could kill, I would have just been incinerated. Actually, that would have happened a long time ago. But the fact that I just got my master to eat his own words only amps up the power in his naturally penetrating eyes. "Shut up and pay attention to where you're going," he snaps, obviously tense.

I snicker and turn my eyes back on the obstacles in front of me, which are really only trees, outcroppings, and a few separatist fighters chasing us around. Nothing terribly hazardous. "Sheesh! Did you forget to drink your tea this morning?"

I see him pinch the bridge of his nose out of the corner of my eye. It's one of his trademark expressions of annoyance. "Apparently. Had I taken the time to make some I would've spiked it with something to get me through this reckless disaster that you call flying."

"Hey! We're still alive aren't we?" I retort. A quick barrel roll gets us away from a barrage of blaster fire and I quickly flip us end over end so that we're behind one of our pursuers. It only takes a few shots for me to blow its engine. "And we've almost escaped!" I feel compelled to add. With Obi-wan, any argument that I can possibly come up with is an argument worth saying.

"Almost being the key phrase," he says dryly, having obviously ignored the fact that I just took out one of the seppies.

"I can't win, can I?" I angrily reply as I navigate our fighter through the narrow spaces between the trees.

He gestures upward with one hand. "You might consider flying over the trees rather than through them."

I huff in response, but I do take his advice and jerk our fighter up into open air. There are only two fighters left behind us now, and not having trees in the way certainly makes it easier for me to keep track of them.

It also gives them more opportunities to blast us into oblivion, which they take without hesitation. I try and dodge most of the fire, but a few shots still graze us despite my best efforts. "Well, that was a great idea. I'm going back down."

"Anakin…" he begins, but I'm already down in the trees again, jerking our fighter left and right. "Go back up."

Ugh. That tone irritates me to no end. He says it so casually that it shouldn't matter, but there's an edge of his 'disobey me at risk to your life' voice to it that makes me listen. I jerk the fighter back up. I let a soft laugh escape my lips when his head collides a little too roughly with the back of his seat. There's a muffled curse before I get another one of his glares. "I'm glad you find this amusing."

"Why did we come back up here again?" I ask, ignoring his sarcastic comment.

He reaches to the console and hits the button before I can stop him. "Master! We can't –" I can't finish because I'm suddenly flying through the air heading straight into the path of the oncoming fighters, having just been ejected from the safety of our cockpit. I don't scare easily, but for some reason this just downright terrifies me.

My master obviously is not terrified. He's back to being Mr. Nothing-phases-me and is flipping gracefully through the air, using the Force to enhance the height of his flight. His lightsaber is in his hand faster than I can blink and he slices at the first fighter as it zips above him. The plasma blade rips through the engine in that split-second and the next thing I know, the fighter explodes a few seconds later.

The other fighter avoids the blade, but my master merely twists around as he's falling and closes his eyes. A brief moment of concentration is all it takes. The Force is swirling around him as he reaches out a hand. The fighter streaks towards the ground, no longer able to control its direction. A second plume of fire follows the first.

And then we're just falling. The fall isn't the problem. We can handle that; piece of cake. I frown and glare at him across from me. He's glaring back. "Why are you such a reckless pilot?" he asks.

"Why did you just wreck my fighter?" I shout back. It's funny how neither of us cares much about how he just took out two fighters with nothing but his lightsaber. Maybe we're just used to accomplishing the impossible.

"You were going to wreck it anyway. I just saved you the trouble. And this way, we weren't in it!"

"I was not going to wreck it!" I snap.

He rolls his eyes and then points his lightsaber at me. "Don't try and deny it, Anakin. We both know that every crash landing you have to make is just that… a crash."

"Yeah, so? At least I've perfected the art of crashing!"

"My mistake. I forgot you've improved enough to come away with one broken appendage rather than four!" He shouts.

I narrow my eyes. "Wait a second. The last time I didn't break anything. I only dislocated my shoulder and twisted my knee a little bit."

"Uh-huh," he says. I wince, knowing what's coming. "Except that I happened to break one wrist, snap my left elbow, crush one of my shins, and fracture the other leg. That's still four, Anakin."

I scowl before smiling sweetly. He'll love this one. "You should've been strapped in."

His jaw clenches slightly. Not much, but I notice. "Not the point."

"Uh, yeah the point. You wouldn't have broken your entire body if you had been safely strapped to your seat. Instead, you were tumbled around like socks in the laundry."

"Forgive me if I trusted you to make a safe landing for once in your life," he retorts.

"It was perfectly safe. For those of us who were strapped in properly," I say, grinning wider when his eyes narrow.

"Why are you such a reckless pilot?" he repeats.

That's the first argument I've won against him. "Why do you hate flying so much?" I ask in response.

"Flying is for droids."

I look at him in disbelief. "Why do you say that?"

His expression hardens into one of both anger and regret. "Droids are just machines. Scrap metal." He pauses. "Too many of my men have died in fighters. And in all honesty, I'm afraid that some day you will too."

Oh.

We land in the forest below. Safely, I might add.

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_Review if you have time! :)_

_"All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers." ~ Francois Fenelon_


	5. Be Honest

Be Honest

We were sitting in his apartment, drinking tea and staring basically at nothing. Well, Obi-wan was probably thinking deeply about something. I was staring at nothing. There was a cream-colored wall across from us that had absolutely nothing hanging on it. No pictures or posters, or anything. The silence was so thick it was stifling. I finally just set my cup of tea on an end table with a loud clanking sound and look over at my old master with a loud sigh. I can tell that he's come out of his trance by the slight smirk on his face. He doesn't respond to my quiet huff, though. He simply takes another sip of his tea and continues to stare straight ahead. "Can you say something?" I ask, irritation leaking into my voice.

He leans back and turns his gray eyes on me. I feel slightly angry for a moment at the sight of his dull gaze. Ever since this blasted war started, his eyes had never returned to their normal clear blue hue. The anger fades as quickly as it appeared. "What would you like me to say?" he asks.

I roll my eyes, realizing that if I engage in this particular argument, I will most definitely lose and we will most definitely just end up back to where we started. Staring at nothing. Instead I grin and give him a rueful look, one that he narrows his eyes at. "Nothing. I have a question, though."

He is definitely suspicious, but he only nods slowly. "Feel free to ask it."

This would be interesting. "Have you ever kissed a girl before?"

I can tell that he's instantly annoyed. He looks away and sets his tea down before running a hand through his hair, proof that he is annoyed for sure. "Why do you need to know?"

He's evading, which means he has kissed a girl, which means that the normally stoic, fearless, witty Negotiator has a love history. He's caught. I know it and he knows it. My grin turns into a smirk. "You're avoiding the question, master."

He glares at me, but I continue to stare at him, knowing that he won't lie to me. He never has. "This is not a conversation I want to have right now." His voice is clipped, edgy, and biting. Not a good sign.

But clueless knight that I am, I fail to acknowledge that and proceed with said conversation. "Oh, come on, master. It's not like it's a sin to kiss a girl. It's only natural."

He sighs, long and loud. Suddenly he looks as old as he acts. This conversation is not going where I intended it to go. It was supposed to be light-hearted and joking, but for some reason I've struck a nerve. "Yes, Anakin. I have kissed a girl. And before you ask, it was not a simple peck on the cheek either. Now can we please talk about something else?"

I frown. He's almost begging and it doesn't suit him. At all. There aren't many moments like this. When I'm the one that's helping him out rather than the other way around. Right now is one of those rare times where I know I can't just let him weasel his way out of this. It was the same way with the conversation about Qui-gon's death. This is something that he obviously needs to talk about. My answer is short and sweet. "No."

He looks at me, the dull gray eyes suddenly flashing dangerously. "This conversation is over," he says quietly, but firmly.

The hardness in his tone combined with his famously penetrating glare would be enough to silence even the most persistent of politicians. But it's not enough to silence someone who's known him for over ten years. I soften my gaze. "Master, who was she?"

He closes his eyes and leans back on the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. "Anakin…" The hardness is gone, replaced by a note that I would almost describe as pleading.

"You need to talk about it," I say, gently urging him on.

He smiles briefly at the irony of me turning one of his own lessons against him. Then he opens his eyes and stares at the wall. "Her name was Siri Tachi."

I almost laugh, but at the last instant decide that it wouldn't really be appropriate. He has to be kidding, though. From what I knew about Siri Tachi, she was a loose spark of a Jedi, always rebelling against the Council and jumping fearlessly into hopeless battles she had little chance of winning. Compared to my unflappable former master who never ceased to obey the Council's every wish and hardly ever encouraged acting before thinking, she hardly seemed the type for him. "Siri Tachi? Didn't she die?"

He let out a short, bitter laugh. He had never been bitter before. Then he turned and stared right at me with pain-ridden eyes. "Yes. Yes she did, Anakin. She died as I held her in my arms."

Crap. Why had I wanted to have this conversation? These serious conversations always seemed to end up letting me know how much more pain my master had been through than any other man in existence. I swallow, suddenly guilty, and look at the floor. "I'm sorry."

When he speaks next, his voice is tight with emotion. "You don't need to be. It wasn't you who watched her die. It wasn't you who tried everything you could to prevent her from passing only to find that your best efforts weren't enough."

He always blamed himself for stuff that was never his fault. That was one of his few faults. "It wasn't your fault."

He smiles. "I've tried to convince myself of that every day since her death." There's a long awkward pause before he speaks again. This time he's looking at me again. "Love is not wrong, Anakin, as long as you understand what love is. It is not possession, it is not mere attachment, and it most definitely is not based solely on desire. Love is much more powerful than any of those, yet it is so simple that it is often overlooked."

"Did you love her?" I can't help but ask. Even so, my voice is barely a whisper.

His eyes glisten with moisture, but the tears don't fall. Somehow, he always kept them in. "I still do."

He would tell me many of his secrets in the coming years. He would open up to me over and over again, spilling his past out in captivating stories that involved a lot of pain, a lot of regret, and every once in a while a splash of humor. Who would've thought that my master once pranked Master Yoda? Through those years, he never once asked me about anything terribly personal. He just stood by my side, offering a shoulder to cry on in the moments I would break down from the stress life brought along, or providing a target for me to rant and rave at. I think he hoped that someday I would confide in him like a son would confide in his father, that I would ask for his advice on subjects other than battle strategy or how to get a senator off my back.

His patience would eventually transition into denial. He never stopped believing that I trusted him like a brother. And the truth was, I did. I just hated to admit that I'd ever failed in anything.

He thought he knew me well.

Had he really known…. but he didn't, because I never told him.

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_"It takes two to speak the truth: one to speak, and another to hear." ~ Henry David Thoreau_


	6. Love

Love

He rarely ever sparred with me. I learned most of my technique from Master Drallig or any other master that was willing to teach me a thing or two. When he did spar with me, though, we always drew a crowd. Especially during the war. The Younglings seemed enamored by us. We were the two most famous Jedi in the Order before the war had barely gone for a couple months. I was considered one of the best swordsmen the Order had ever seen aside from perhaps Mace or Qui-gon. I typically won most spars I engaged in.

But not the ones with him.

It always ended in a draw for reasons I will never know. I tried my hardest, but I could never get to him, even when he was exhausted from previous missions or Council business. Our duels tended to last well over an hour as we fought back and forth, flipping over each other and striking in blurs of blue. I watched one of our spars on the holonet once. Some Youngling had probably posted it.

I watched the whole thing. It was sort of stupid really, because I had participated in it. I remembered every slice and cut I had made, every trick I had used, every flip and every spin I had initiated…

Every time he had blocked me or foiled one of my tricks. It was ridiculous after a while. After the first twenty minutes, I realized why people loved to watch us spar. We just knew each other too well. Even though he hardly ever sparred with me, he understood me in a way no other Jedi could possibly comprehend. He knew which moves I would use in certain situations. He knew how I would respond to his attacks. He knew when I would retreat and when I would become more aggressive.

He also knew how long I could keep up with him.

My master is not an imposing figure. He's an inch under six feet and not as muscular as you would expect a Jedi to be. Jedi are warriors, at least by my understanding. Most of us have defined muscle that's evident to anyone who crosses blades with us. We look like athletes. Except for my master. Yes, he's muscular, but not obviously. He's very lean and not very stocky. He looks like a person who has a daily workout routine and eats the right foods, not like someone who fights battles daily and trains to win them.

There's a reason he looks the way he does. Too much muscle would slow him down. Take me for example. I am used to winning a duel within the first thirty minutes of fighting due to the fact that I rely on strength and aggression. When I strike at another person's blade, I don't just hit it, I blast it. I put my full strength into every swing and attempt to tire my opponent out through sheer, raw power alone. This is why I win most of the time. In most cases, this kind of fighting style prevails, especially when someone like me is using it. I don't mean to brag, but I am the Chosen One, and there simply isn't anyone who can match me in raw power.

My master comes close, but with one look at him, you could see that he doesn't rely on his strength to win battles. He relies on something possibly more deadly than raw power. He relies on stamina. And let me tell you, his stamina is way above that of anyone else.

I can fight for maybe forty-five minutes before I start to break a sweat. I've typically won at that point, but here's the thing. When you're fighting someone like my master, who knows your every move, who knows your style like the back of his hand, that powerful, aggressive style suddenly becomes a huge disadvantage. Especially when, at forty-five minutes, he's still fighting as strong as ever and only smirks at you when he realizes you're starting to get a little winded.

It's painfully annoying. Well, actually it's his style that is rather annoying. He uses Soresu. Normally, that shouldn't be a big deal. Most Jedi have been taught the basics in both Soresu and Ataru, because those are the best suited forms for fighting this sort of war. However, those styles tend to not work out so well when fighting another force-user one on one… unless of course you've mastered the form to a degree that shouldn't be attainable. My master, unfortunately for me, has made it his lifetime goal, it seems, to learn everything he possibly can about Soresu.

For him it's not a form of combat; it's a lifestyle. Master Windu once commented that my master was the master of Soresu. Not a master. The master. That's scary if you think about it. Soresu is annoying because its practitioners are not about attacking. Soresu itself is not about attacking. It's a very passive style that focuses on defense. It was created, in fact, to use against blaster bolts, which, I might add, my former master is exceptionally good at deflecting.

My master never attacked during our spars until I made a mistake. I don't make mistakes very often, but my weakness, as my master knew very well, was my patience. I had very little patience, whereas his patience was way beyond possibility. I'm pretty sure he would fight a guy for hours on end until he capitalized on a mistake. I'm not joking either. He could fight for probably at least three hours before he started getting majorly short of breath. That's why people watched our spars. Because they went on forever.

But that's not the point here. The point is that our spars always ended in a draw. Most people probably thought that made sense. Since we were the two most famous Jedi, it only seems reasonable that our skills in dueling would be fairly equal.

Obi-wan and I knew better. He and I both knew that I was the better swordsman of the two of us. That I was the one with more raw power and talent. That I was the one with the more dominant style. But I never actually beat him. I don't know why I couldn't defeat him. I always gave it my best shot, always put forth my best efforts, used my best tricks, my best tactics… but it never worked. I couldn't make it past his stupid blade.

It was always there with a light parry to push my attacks aside, his eyes all the while staring straight into my own with something I would almost label as sadness. He knew something I didn't, but he never told me what it was.

He would've beaten me every time had he not called the spars. He always ended them when he could tell I was getting winded and frustrated. I was grateful that he never took the chance to beat me, but at the same time it hurt me to know that he thought he had to end them just so I wouldn't receive an embarrassing blow to my swollen ego.

Preventing a blow to my ego wasn't the real reason why he stopped them, though. I figured that out years later on a molten planet, fire swirling all around me, as I faced down a man who was crying for the first time since I had met him. He stopped me, because he knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself. He knew me too well.

Frustration turned to anger, which quickly boiled into rage. That rage led me straight over the edge into a pit I couldn't climb out of. At least not on my own. He was there when I fell over the edge, and he tried to reach down to me, offer me a way out, pull me out of the darkness that had consumed me. I turned away from him. That was the final mistake. This time it wasn't a draw. This time, tears pouring down his face, blue eyes overrun by regret, forgiveness hidden behind cries of "Why?", he swung at me and didn't stop.

The blade went through my arm first, then my legs. I fell into a heap of broken flesh onto the charred black earth. Within a few minutes, what was left of my body would turn the same color as the fire ate away at me. There wasn't a crowd there to witness my defeat. There were no bystanders to offer up a deafening roar of approval towards the one man who was able to out-duel the Chosen One.

And there was no satisfied look of victory in his eyes. Only a painful expression caused by the agony of a broken heart. He didn't win that battle. He surrendered and let me live.

I killed him.

My last words burned a hole straight through whatever small amount of compassion was left in him. Three words were all it took to defeat the great Obi-wan Kenobi.

I hate you!

I screamed at him with all the strength I had left in my broken body. I saw his face crumble, actually felt our bond tremble before it shattered. I didn't know it at the time, but had I been paying attention, I would have felt the very essence of the Force pulse in agony. The breaking of our bond seemed to split the Force into pieces. I never realized that it had been us two that were holding it together.

He stared at me then. I expected him to get angry, to come down and change the outcome of this battle, seal his victory rather than let me get away with a decisive win.

But instead he offered me three words. I think he said a few more, but I only heard the last three. I love you.

Then he walked away. I didn't see him for close to twenty years, and when I did run into him again, I literally killed him. It didn't matter, though. He was already dead anyway. But those three words were very much alive. I finally realized that he was the epitome of greatness. The perfect Jedi, though he claimed no one could ever truly reach perfection.

I betrayed the Order out of love, but I didn't know what love was. I had never seen its true form or witnessed it in action. Even between Padme and I, it had never really existed. I should've seen it, though.

It should've been obvious in the smirks that came my way from a man who had rarely laughed since the death of his mentor.

It should've been apparent in the way he comforted me after the worst of my nightmares.

It tried to reach me through a father who never rested despite a war that had taken the lives of many of his friends.

It fought for me against a Council partly led by a Korun master that had hated me since he had first laid eyes on me.

And love tried to save me for the final time as my father reached in desperation for the hand of his son who had fallen too far for him to catch.

I should've seen it. I should've listened to that little green troll all those years ago. I should've grabbed on to the hand that was reaching for me. I ignored it. I ignored the greatest Jedi to ever live. I never saw the sunset again. It disappeared, only to be replaced by an inky blackness. There was no tinge of blue or purple. No brilliant red shades swirling with his laughter. No yellows betraying his happiness when his face wouldn't. No orange shining fiercely in carefully controlled anger at those who deserved it. Just black.

The sunset was gone forever.

* * *

_Review? Please? :)_

_"Intense love does not measure. It just gives." ~ Mother Teresa_


	7. Forgive

Forgive…

I didn't expect to be here. Yes, I saved my son. I realized that all those years ago, it was me who had been wrong… so terribly wrong. I destroyed the last true Sith, the one festering evil that was still present in the dull, dampened universe. It was still dull, and it was still damp, but it would get better. I left a clean slate for my son to start with. It was up to him now. I had done everything that I could do. And it still wasn't enough. It shouldn't have been enough. By all accounts, nothing should've been enough to redeem me for all of the wrongs I had committed. Nothing.

Yet here I stand, in a place so utterly light and so peaceful that it's mind boggling. No Sith Lord would end up here. That's the one thing I'm sure about right now. So then what am I? I can't possibly be a Jedi, or anything remotely close for that matter.

The Force is swirling around me. It's everywhere here. And it's visible. Everything around me is shimmering in light, almost glowing. The colors are so vibrant and I squint, sure I'm about to go blind. All I've seen for the last twenty years is blackness through a window of red. That stupid mask wouldn't allow me to see anything but. And where am I exactly? I have yet to figure that out.

I open my eyes, taking a good look around. I'm surprised to find that I'm standing in a familiar place. The humidity hangs in the air, though not as heavy as it was before. A stream is trickling along a little ways to my left, taking all the time in the world to get to where it wants to be. Lush, green vegetation is growing all around me. Life is singing out from the thick trees, the low, bulging bushes, the brilliantly-painted flowers, and even in the short, soft grass beneath me. I hear it. Actually hear it. It's a beautiful song, full of laughter and tears of joy, melodious notes raised in song. How I never heard it before saddens me. It should've been so obvious.

A lot of things should've been obvious. If only I would've listened. If only I hadn't been blind. If only… I hate that phrase.

I sniff, holding back the tears threatening to fall. I don't deserve this… this… goodness. It's just plain good. Something I never was.

My feet are moving, carrying my weary soul through a place long forgotten, yet remembered in the deepest parts of my mind. The memories are rushing forward now, stopping my feet, forcing the tears to finally break through whatever I had been trying to hold them back with. They carry so much weight with them. Are they happy tears or sad tears? I don't know. I know I'll never see him again, yet in my memories he's still there…

_"Just settle down, padawan." His calm, accented voice sends calming tremors down my back. It relaxes my body for a moment._

_A moment. Meditating is so hard. My itching body can't take it. How can a person sit still for so long? I spare him a glance only to freeze, eyes riveted on the form to my right._

_He's floating. Floating! _

_Gently, a couple feet above the damp earth. His eyes are closed, a relaxed smile etched on his face. Focus. He told me before we came here that meditation takes a lot of focus and patience. I had neither of those, but I suddenly wanted to have them. I wanted to float too._

_I stubbornly stand up and cross my arms, pouting. "Master."_

_One of his brows quirks, though his countenance remains unchanged. I know he heard me._

_"Can you teach me?"_

_"It cannot be taught."_

_"But you said that it takes focus and patience. Teach me those."_

_He smiles softly. "You must learn them yourself. Those I cannot teach you."_

_I look at the ground, dig at it with my toe. "How long will it take me to learn them?"_

_"I am still learning, Anakin."_

_That surprises me and I don't believe him for a second. I stoop and pick up a smooth river stone, toss it a few times in my hand, and then, just out of curiosity, I chuck it at him as hard as I can. His left hand snaps out and the stone thwacks into his palm with hardly a noise, but the damage has been done. His eyes flash open and he falls, clumsily, onto the grass. He's just sprawling there, flat on the ground, staring up at the canopy of trees. I can't help it._

_I giggle._

_He turns to look at me. A grin slowly lights up his face for the first time since that dreadful funeral almost a year ago. "See. I'm still learning. Lost my focus."_

_We both burst into laughter._

_I never knew he fell on purpose._

I blink and the memory fades. My cheeks are wet with silent tears. This place is so silent now. Awe-inspiring, yes. Loud with the life-giving Force, yes. But somehow silent. A muffled cry interrupts that silence. It's me. Whimpering like a small youngling again. I'm alone, and I always will be.

My feet move again. I allow them to carry me through the trees down a distantly familiar path. It was one that few ever took, mainly because it was barely even there. Most Jedi stayed on the paths that had been constructed. My master and I hadn't been 'most Jedi'…

_I followed him through the thick blanket of leaves, careful to stay just far enough back so that branches wouldn't smack me in the head when he passed them. I had no clue where we were going. All I knew was that the ground was soggier than usual and that mud was caking all over my boots. Dew quickly soaked through my clothes. I was wearing only a sleeveless tunic, just like my master. It quickly clung to my body, becoming sticky and uncomfortable. Bugs were swirling around my head. One fly was particularly irritating as it constantly buzzed close to my ear. I finally gave up and smacked at it, only to mash it into my hair. "What are we doing exactly?"_

_He looks back at me and I have to grin. His face is streaked with dirt and his hair is wet and spiky. "Looking for what cannot be seen."_

_Ah. Right. Looking for what cannot be seen. That which cannot be found. That which does not exist. Another famous Jedi riddle. I grew to despise riddles. I sigh in frustration. "Which is what exactly?"_

_He stops abruptly and I almost run into him. My master pivots and stares at me. "Do you want to find out?"_

_Not really, but I'm slightly curious. "Of course."_

_He smiles. "Then you must look. Open your eyes, Anakin. There is much to be seen that has yet to be witnessed."_

_We start moving again. "Can you please stop talking in riddles? It's getting on my…" We break through the last layer of shrubbery and bugs and are suddenly standing in a bright, open clearing. "nerves," I finish. I can't believe we just walked through all of that to get to this. The clearing is vibrant. A bright, luscious green hidden from view. That's pretty much it. There's a small, wimpy fountain in the middle of the clearing. Nothing fancy like so many others. There's a small round ball in the middle where the water is spurting. Yes, merely spurting. It coats the ball in a shimmering layer of moving glass. Nothing spectacular. Nothing worth getting a gazillion bug bites over. "This is it?" I ask him in exasperation. _

_He walks forward and stands by the fountain with an oddly satisfied expression. "Yes, Anakin. This is it."_

My feet take me to the clearing. There are no bugs this time. No branches whacking me in the face. No wet tunic sticking to my body. Just a path defined by two sets of feet that had walked it so many years ago. It's the same as I remember it, but the green is perhaps more vibrant than before, if possible. The fountain is still there, spurting softly. I walk forward and look at it, allowing a small smile to break onto my face. Yes. This is it. This is the Force. A small, insignificant spurt that drives everything around me. It hardly ever gets noticed for more than a mysterious power that few can wield. Few ever look for it, and fewer still ever find it.

My master found it. I found it too, but only just now. Why didn't I find it before? What if I had? Would things have gone differently?

"Why did you abandon me?" I whisper, angrily lashing out at the little spurt in front of me. "Why did you choose me? Why? You took everything! What did I ever do to you? You brought me here to rot in eternity, didn't you. This is all a kriffin' joke!"

_Language, Anakin…_

"Shut up, master!" I scream. Great. I'm imagining things now.

I quiet down enough to where I'm just seething. Breath in, breath out. Calm. There is no emotion, there is… heck yes, there's emotion! Who wrote that stupid Code? And suddenly I'm ranting and raving again. I feel the darkness closing in and desperately try and push it away. Where is it coming from? Everything here is so light! I thrash around, franticly trying to force it away from me.

But it's still coming. My sight begins to grow hazy. The red starts to seep in again, and suddenly I don't fight it. I embrace it, just like I used to. Like I did. I did it all those years ago on Mustafar, I did it for twenty years after that, and I will do it again. Last time he reached for me. Last time he tried to help me, tried to turn me back.

He's not here… he's gone… he's abandoned me just like the Force… he's… he's…

A sliver of white breaks through the inky blackness. It's there for but a moment before it turns a deep blue. A tinge of purple starts to break from the edges. It soon turns to a bright, joyous red. A soft chuckle breaks through my misery…

_Anakin…_

A whisper, though I barely hear it. There's a bridge forming in my mind, between myself and something else. It's growing, yet fading at the same time. Is this my way out? Do I want a way out? I survived before in the dark, and I can sure as heck do it again. Who needs a kriffin' bridge? I angrily turn from it, but I stop when a voice drifts across the bridge.

_Language, Anakin…_

No_._

He's dead. I killed him. Saw it with my own eyes.

But I'm dead too.

I just seem to realize that. I focus on the bridge now, really focus. Then I see it. A force signature unique only to him. It's on the other side, swirling with brilliant colors. Orange mixing with yellow and red, spreading out to the blues and the purples.

It's his sunset.

I feel the darkness slipping, being beaten back by his light. It's trying to hold on to me, but as I take a step closer to the bridge, I feel it finally let go. It fades, only to be replaced by a light so bright I actually stumble in shock. It latches on to a familiar section of my mind.

A shattered bond suddenly pulses to life. I can't hold them back any longer. I feel whole again, and the tears fall freely. I break from the recesses of my mind and come back into the clearing. The fountain is still in front of me, but the water is suddenly spouting a good five feet into the air. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

_Anakin…_

It's still only a whisper in my mind, coming over that bridge. Why can't he actually be here? I truly will never see him again.

"I'm right here, Anakin…"

No, you're not. You're gone forever. Cast away from me like I wanted… or used to want. I'm sobbing now, shoulders hunched over. My tears fall into the fountain's clear waters.

"Don't cry, brother. You're not alone."

A voice only he could have. Comforting and amused at the same time with his distinct accent. Really, the Force is playing a really sick joke on me right now. I lift my head and turn towards where it was coming from… and take a quick step back. Obi-wan. "No, I killed you."

He smiles. His trademark grin. I've missed it. "So you did, Anakin. I always said you would be the death of me."

For some reason, that makes me laugh. He was always right, even when he was joking. I take a couple steps closer and reach out a hand. He just stands there patiently, looking at me with clear blue eyes. My hand reaches his shoulder and presses against it. He's real. He's real. My eyes start to water again and I turn away. "I don't deserve this," I mutter between sobs.

I expect him to say something encouraging, but no. He only states the truth, as always. "No, you don't." A pause. "No one does."

I turn to look at him again, confused. His gaze goes from me to the fountain and a soft smile grazes his lips. Then something happens that I've seen only once before. A long time ago on a fiery planet filled with hate and darkness. He cries.

"What's wrong, master?" I ask him, suddenly panicked.

He lets out a short laugh and wipes the tears from his cheeks. Then he turns to me and places a hand on my shoulder. "Nothing, Anakin. Absolutely nothing."

And he's right. Somehow, someway, everything is just fine. "But how?" I can't stop myself from asking. I just can't comprehend how I ended up here.

"Forgiveness is not earned," he says quietly. "No one deserves any amount of mercy or compassion."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because forgiveness is given. Just as I forgave you all those years ago, the Force has forgiven you now."

Forgiven… I was forgiven. And then all of the tears that had threatened to break free over the years come pouring out in a tidal wave of relief. All of the power I could ever have possessed wouldn't have prepared me for three words that he just said. I forgave you.

Forgiveness is not earned; it is given. The strength it takes to forgive the things I've done… and he did it years ago. And the Force forgave me as well. I look up and see his gentle smile, his bright, clear eyes, and lower my gaze to the hand he's reaching out to me. I must have fallen to my knees as I cried.

He was reaching for me for thirteen years. He reached to me throughout the war, through all of my nightmares, through my secret marriage with Padme, through the last few years of our friendship, and he even reached out one last time as I shattered our bond on Mustafar. I ignored him every time.

This time, I hesitate for a fraction of a second before slowly grasping the offered hand. His grip is strong. So strong. I know he'll never let go.

Then he pulls me up.

Out of the darkness and into the light.

I'm forgiven.

* * *

_The End..._

_"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you." ~ Lewis B. Smedes_


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